Study Notes
by ronniekins77
Summary: Peter and Susan are forced to meet in secret. Warning: incest.


The night had been quite dreadful so far. Harold and Alberta Clarence were the hosts of a party in celebration of a promotion Uncle Harold had received. The guests in attendance mainly included people in their fifties or older. There were only a handful of guests who were younger than forty; Eustace (Harold and Alberta's son), Jill Pole (a friend of Eustace's), the four Pevensie children (who were Harold and Albert's nieces and nephews), and a young boy named Henry (no one seemed to know whom he had arrived with). All in all, it was a dull party, filled with lots of wine and mindless chatter. Everyone had dressed their best clothes, but that did little to add any real class to the party.

Susan Pevensie, however, was determined to get through the evening. She was seventeen now, an adult, and was expected to behave as such. She laughed politely at the jokes the men told and graciously accepted any compliments the women gave her. She answered all of the questions bestowed upon her ("Where did you buy that dress?" "How are your studies going?" "Have you found a lad yet?") with poise and did not once stray from acting anything less than a lady.

But after three hours of being asked the same questions over and over and smiling her best smile, she was beginning to get weary. Her eyes scanned the room for any sign of her siblings, but they were nowhere to be found. No doubt Edmund and Lucy had gone off with Eustace and Jill somewhere, but Susan didn't have the faintest idea as to where Peter might be. After all, he was eighteen and was also expected to keep up appearances.

Susan had excused herself from a group of ladies discussing the joys of crocheting and was just about to pay a visit to the loo to powder her face when she felt someone tug on her dress. She looked down to see Henry, showing off his toothy grin. "Hi, there," she said warmly (for Susan had always liked young children). "Is there something you want?"

"Some man told me to give this to the lady in red," he told her, handing her a folded piece of paper. "And you're the only one wearing red."

Susan took the note from his chubby fingers and smiled. "Thank you, Henry."

"No problem, Miss Suzanne." He walked off, looking as adorable as ever, and Susan didn't have the heart to correct him.

Susan ducked into the loo and closed the door, locking it behind her. She leaned against the sink countertop and unfolded the note. She took a deep breath before reading:

_I am in the study. Come join me?_

She reread the note, and her heart gave a little flutter.

Then, standing before the mirror, she examined her reflection. She supposed she was pretty enough (though if you had asked anyone else, they would have said there was no doubt she was beautiful), with her deep blue eyes and elegant, oval shaped face. She wore the smallest amount of rouge on her cheeks and her lips were colored champagne to match her dress. White pearls were draped around her neck, and her dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders.

For a moment, she even thought she looked royal.

Susan paused a moment before exiting the loo and walking up the stairs to the second floor (where she was certain no one was allowed) and down the hallway. The study was located at the very end of the corridor and when she reached it, she closed her eyes. _Just breathe_, she told herself before opening the door.

And there he was standing before her, looking every bit a man as he was expected to look.

"I see you received my note," said he, as Susan held it up.

Susan set it down on a nearby desk. "Was there something you wanted to discuss, Peter?" she asked, her voice teasing.

He grinned. "Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you all night. But I was too busy being asked if I'd found any special ladies who might be interested in being Mrs. Pevensie." He rolled his eyes.

Susan returned his grin as he walked closer to her. "Have you?"

"Of course," he said, kissing her lightly on the skin below her ear as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I didn't tell them who it was, though."

"Of course," echoed Susan, and the soft sigh that escaped her did not go unnoticed.

Peter pulled away slightly. "Are you all right?"

Susan stroked his hair softly. "I'm fine," she said, "I just wish we didn't have to meet in secret like this."

Peter rested his forehead against hers, and she continued to play with the strands of his hair, deep in thought. She and Peter had been meeting in secret for a long while now. At first, they had tried to put away their feelings for one another, but it soon became too much of a struggle. It was painful, to look at the one you loved and not be able to hold them whenever you wished or plant a kiss on their lips at your will.

No, in Finchley, where the Pevensie children lived (though, really they weren't children any longer) a relationship like theirs wasn't tolerated. Who was to know what would happen to them if it were ever found out? It was a question Susan hoped would never be answered. She didn't think she could bear it if her parents disowned her, if her friends abandoned her, if society turned its back to her. Of course her meetings with Peter, as lovely as they were, could not chase those thoughts from her mind.

"There you go, thinking again," said Peter teasingly (my, how he could read her well!).

Susan kissed him then, surprised by her own boldness. Normally her kisses were light, tender, and gentle; this one was fiery and passionate, and it instantly drove any previous thoughts from her mind, allowing her to focus on Peter and only Peter.

If he was taken aback by the kiss, he certainly did not show it. He responded to her with fervor, cupping her face in his hands and exploring her mouth with his tongue. Susan's hands ran through his hair, and moved down to his waist, pulling him closer to her.

Susan's skin tingled at the feel of him against her, at the feel of his hands stroking her warm cheeks, at the feel of his breath mingling sweetly with hers, and it all became so much for her that she broke the kiss to collect herself, her heart pounding wildly against her chest.

She looked at him then and couldn't help feeling inwardly pleased. Peter's cheeks were a magenta color, his hair was roughly mussed up (though she supposed that had been her doing), and he was looking quite flustered. "Gee, Su," he said, his voice breaking, "do you even know what you do to me?"

Susan, quite collected now, only responded with a wide smile. It is often said that a woman can break a man just by her smile and in Susan's case it was rather true, for the moment she smiled, Peter kissed her again.

Susan couldn't help but let out a laugh as the force of it drove the two of them to fall onto the sofa. Peter's hormones took on their own agenda and Susan let them because they had never failed her before. He left chaste kisses on her neck and her skin seemed to come to life, heated and sensitized. And now, as he pushed down the material of her dress to kiss her bare shoulders, nothing was remotely funny anymore.

Susan, her own hormones taking their hold on her, tugged at Peter's blazer and removed it with ease. Her hands next went to the buttons of his dress shirt, and she undid them hurriedly, as nothing was more important to her at that moment than being able to feel his chest quiver beneath her fingers.

She moaned, for Peter had moved his attention to the area around her breasts and her back arched into the sofa, overcome with anticipation. She opened her eyes and tried to refocus on the task of removing his shirt but he was staring at her.

"What?" she asked him breathlessly, tracing the gentle curve of his lips with her fingers.

"You're beautiful," he told her, kissing her fingers softly.

Susan could feel the tears already welling in her eyes (for she could become rather emotional at times), but she blinked them away. She kissed Peter deeply, trying desperately to convey all she was feeling in one kiss.

And then, a few moments later when she freed Peter from the confining fabric that was his shirt, her thoughts began to wonder. She could see the faces of her parents, of Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta, of all the guests downstairs, disgust etched into their expressions. She could see the faces of her friends at school, of her brother and sister, shaking their heads in disappointment. She could hear them saying she was far from a lady (and how could they have ever thought her one?), and an immoral human being. If only they could see her now, holding her brother to her, kissing the rippled muscles of his chest, then desisting as his mouth did tantalizing things to her breasts…

They could never understand the love she had for Peter. He was the reason she woke in the morning and the reason she rested peacefully at night. He was the one who knew her better than she knew herself, the one with whom she could share her hopes and her dreams, her fears and her transgressions. He was her protector, her knight in shining armour, and would lay down his own life to save hers. Around him she felt safe, content, and complete; she felt as if she could fly if she felt the need and he would be her wings. Never did he judge her, doubt her, or look down on her. He was her brother, her lover, her best friend. He was the Sun to her Moon, the King to her Queen...the Peter to her Susan.

"You're thinking again, aren't you?" he asked her, gently wiping away the glistening tears that slid down her cheeks. Susan nodded and he gave her a sad smile. "Always thinking…"

Peter stood up from the sofa and looked around for his shirt, locating it on the other side of the room. "What's wrong, Peter?" Susan asked him.

"I can't compete with your mind, Su," he said, walking back over to the sofa and kneeling down next to her. "You're logical and every time we're together, your thoughts wander to what other people think. I love you so much, but I just…I can't stand being the cause of your worry."

He placed a kiss upon her brow and then turned round so that his back was to her, leaned against the sofa, and began to button his shirt. Susan sat up on the sofa and straightened out her dress the best she could sitting down, before wrapping her arms around her brother. She rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. 

Susan took his face in hers and turned it toward hers, and she kissed him. He stiffened slightly, as if he was trying hard not to give in to her, but then his shoulders relaxed and he kissed her back.

Susan couldn't help but give a small gasp when he pushed her away and stood up abruptly. "I can't bear it Susan! We - I - no!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the small room.

Susan got to her feet and crossed her arms. "Peter, what are you saying?"

Peter stared at her incredulously. "I already told you! I can't stand being the cause of your worry! It is more than I can take, can't you understand that?"

Susan blinked. He had practically yelled at her (how dare he!) and she was so taken aback that all she could do was stare. But soon a wave of frustration washed over her and she responded, "You asked me to meet you here, Peter!"

Peter sighed. "I know, but I - "

She cut him off. "Why must you be so noble!"

"For the same reason you must be logical!" he shot back.

Susan gazed at him, shocked, angry, and anxious. She did not like arguing or yelling of any kind and did her best to avoid situations that would call for such behavior. The overwhelming power of the argument (with Peter, for goodness sake!) made her knees feel like they were going to buckle at any second.

Peter's expression changed from frustration to concern. "I'm sorry, Su," he said, coming toward her. "I suppose that was jolly stupid of me."

Susan allowed him to guide her to the couch and she attempted a smile. "Yes, it was."

At that moment Edmund entered the room. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted the two of them. "Well, it took long enough to find you!" he said, clearly agitated. When Susan and Peter made no signs of moving, he added, "Come now, we're about to leave! Please hurry, I'd like to go before Aunt Alberta starts slurring her words."

Not a lot of time passed before Harold and Alberta Clarence held another party. This time, it was being held in celebration of Harold's new job (for he had been fired only a week after receiving his promotion at the old one). The guests were still as dull as ever and even Alberta seemed to notice this, because she was gripping her wineglass harder than ever.

Peter glanced down at his wristwatch. When _was_ this stupid thing to end?

His eyes sought out his family members. His mother and father were currently discussing politics with some gentleman Peter didn't know and Edmund and Lucy were arguing over something (Edmund was pointing to the neckline of Lucy's dress and Peter was able to pick up the phrases "too damn low", "improper", and "boys drooling over themselves"). Peter could not locate Susan, however, and this upset him a bit.

He hadn't really seen his sister much since the last party Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta had held. She always seemed to be out of reach, whether she was spending time with friends or studying alone in her bedroom. He had not even spoken to his sister since he had suggested that they shouldn't see each other anymore.

As it was, Peter deeply regretted all that he had said at the last party. Not being able to take Susan into his arms and kiss her gentle lips was like denying him water and food. It was even more painful than not being allowed to enter Narnia again, which until now had been the worst thing he had ever had to endure. But Peter loved Susan more than grassy hills and clear air, more than castles and sparkling rivers, more than singing birds and majestic Lions. For even though Narnia held all the pieces of his heart, Susan was the person who made it beat.

Sighing heavily, Peter tried to turn his thoughts to other things. Edmund and Lucy were still going at it, and he could hear their words quite clearly now. Apparently, so could everyone else, because a small crowd had gathered round them.

The two of them were beginning to be chastized by the adults for being so loud and unpleasant when Peter felt a tugging at his trousers. Looking down, he saw a boy grinning up at him. "Hello, Henry," he said, ruffling the boy's hair a bit.

"Hi, Perry," replied Henry happily (and, indeed, Peter didn't have the heart to correct him), handing him a note.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Who is this from?" he inquired, joy already beginning to settle over him.

But the boy had already skipped away. Peter looked down at the piece of paper in his hands. A broad smile stretched its way across his face and he slipped out of the room.

For the note had read:

_I am in the study. I promise to be less logical if you'll promise to be less noble._


End file.
